


Hazardous Waste

by Thetrexthatcould



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-05 07:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetrexthatcould/pseuds/Thetrexthatcould
Summary: The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction, the weight, the weight we carry is love. - Allen GinsbergSet some time in the future, where the rapid advancement of technology forcefully pressures society to the verge of either acceptance or rebellion. Eve Polastri is at its helm.





	1. Helianthus

**Author's Note:**

> Everything means something.

Welcome to the Telamon Corporation.

If I could briefly summarize its purpose, I'd tell you that it's a successful technological company, founded by the Martins family several years ago. In fact, its founder had recently passed away and with that, the company fell into the hands of his grandchild.

And meet Eve Polastri.

She's about to walk through the large doors of the Telamon building, albeit slightly intimidated and slightly confused as to the reason she felt that way. Eve wasn't an impostor, but it was this exact feeling that she couldn't shake, as though she couldn't ever belong in the upper echelon, or be at the top of the food chain. Yet somehow, through false pretenses, she was hoping to become one of them.

Once she had passed through the rotating doors, she was taken aback by the vibrancy of the lobby. A large skylight allowed enough light to illuminate the whitely clad and minimalistic interior. The only splash of color that Eve could identify came from four, large flower bouquets that adorned the four corners of the lobby. She recognized the gerberas, the daisies, the carnations and the hydrangeas. And the only reason for this was solely due to the fact that her ex-husband Niko had an affinity for anything botanical.

She was beginning to chastise herself for having preconceived notions in regards to the type of person who would work here - "Suits with a superiority complex," she had told her then husband - but instead she remained pleasantly surprised at the warmness and relaxed body language of the people there; loud and chatty.

Although, let's not forget that this is Eve Polastri that we're talking about. Eve was an apprehensive woman, in part because that was her personality, in part because she knew that things were never _truly_ carefree, and if things were _truly_ carefree, well then, that signified that something displeasing was skulking around the corner. "The fuckening," she had called it.

Eve retucked her white shirt into her black slacks, adjusting the hem of her pants and giving them one last brush with her hands before walking up to the receptionist area.

"Hello," she harkled, "Eve Polastri for my 9:00 AM appointment with Konstantin Vasiliev."

The man behind the counter looked up from his desk having a minutely imperceptible expression of annoyance. "One minute." He jotted something down. "Apologies," he flashed her a genuine smile, "let me make a quick call to the boss." 

Eve drummed her fingers against the surface of the gray marble countertop, anxiously glancing around the open space.

"Mr. Vasiliev is ready to receive you," the receptionist interrupted and motioned with his right hand, "Take the elevator all the way to the 30th floor."

He noticed the hesitation in Eve. "Don't be nervous," he whispered, "They bark more than they bite."

Eve managed to procure an awkward smile, while taking a hurried look at the name tag. "Thank you, Collins." And then she shuffled off towards the elevator.

If you happen to be curious about the 30th floor, I can reveal as much that it's the second highest floor in the building. It precedes the office of the current CEO of the company. As far as the CEO goes, you already know what I know, Carolyn Martens inherited the company after the death of her grandfather.

As the elevator doors opened, Eve struggled to navigate.

She found herself in a small, bright foyer connected to a hallway. From what Eve could see, the hallway branched out into a few directions, where one of the right ones connected to a large office with plated anterior glass walls. And it didn't take Eve long to realize that the man standing in the doorway, with his hands in his pockets, was Konstantin Vasiliev.

"Mrs. Polastri," he spoke out, "This way, please."

Eve hurriedly stepped into the room, inadvertently omitting to shake Konstantin's hand. Before he even had the opportunity to gesture towards one of the two large armchairs, Eve had already managed to plop herself into one. On the outside she seemed calm and collected, but on the inside she was swallowing the heartbeats jammed in the pit of her neck.

She shot him a smile right before her facial expression changed, as if she had suddenly remembered something. "Just Eve, please," she added.

"Well then, Eve," Konstantin uttered as he sat down opposite of her and leaned into the back of his chair, "Let's begin."

 

* * *

 

"K, I just finished talking to Caro-," a voice broke through the room and just as quickly silenced. "Oh, I thought you'd be done by now. My apologies," the voice sounding lower.

"I can always rely on your impeccable timing," he said with playful intonation, while leaving his gaze on Eve. "We _are_ done here."

It was now that Eve realized that she had failed to notice a door located on the far left side of the room, the door through which she assumed, the voice's keeper had come from. Eve's eyes widened upon recognizing the young woman, but she was daunted enough to remain silent.

Konstantin offered a steady hand to Eve, who was struggling to get out of the chair, and spoke, "I'd like you to meet our new hopeful."

The young woman seemed indifferent. Although, Eve was unsure if it was indifference or if it was character assessment. The young woman was still, keeping her arms extended in front of her and her fingers interlaced. She tilted her head and moved her hands into the front pockets of her pants.

"Hello, new hopeful." Her voice was softer than Eve had anticipated. "I'm Oksana Astankova."

Eve smiled, because of course she knew that she was Oksana Astankova.  _The_ Oksana Astankova. Of course she knew about her achievements and the praise she had received because of it. Of course she knew about her reputation of being bold and resolved, and above all, bright. Of course she had also known that her determination was sometimes confused for arrogance, but Eve thought that maybe one went hand in hand with the other.

But there was something else there, too. And Eve couldn't put her finger on it.

It was now that Eve remembered to speak. "Miss Astankova," she bobbed.

While Konstantin reiterated how him and Oksana had "Business to attend to," Eve was still stuck in the loop of _how_ she had greeted one of the few people she admired. She winced as the thought hit her, _Did I just curtsy?_

Oksana had a crooked smirk on her face, "Call me Vee."

"What does that stand for?" Eve blurted.

"Don't worry about it," Oksana had responded just as brash. "Just make sure that you're here on Monday 8:00 AM sharp. Don't be late. That would be _r_ ude."

The way Oksana pronounced her _r_ was not something that Eve had expected to find as satisfying as she did. It sort of clicked and _rrr_ oled in her mouth; a gentle stimuli to something primal in Eve.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Later that same evening, a seemingly agitated Eve had arrived home.  
  
She was fidgeting with the keys to the lock of her apartment in a rather clear display of dissipating patience. _Just open already_ , she managed to procure a thought to herself half-frazzled, before crossing the doorstep and allowing the dull door to swing to a close with a thud.  
  
The subsequent exhale was in part relief and in part scolding because, yes, the commute had taken longer than she had anticipated, but in reality it wasn’t something to lose her shit over. Just like anything, she would eventually get used to it. After all, "patience is a virtue", she thought in a mocking tone of her friend Ansgar's words.

He reiterated them to her quite frequently, because if there was one thing that Eve Polastri lacked, it was patience.  
  
She placed her open palm on the white wall of the hallway, steadying herself as she unzipped the sides of her boots. Being too tired, and maybe even more significantly too lazy to bend down, Eve pushed with one foot against the other, prevailing only in losing her balance and staggering backwards. In frustration she jerked her feet in an attempt to shake the boots off, which in turn ended up sliding down her feet like a pair of wet, dead fish.  
  
Eve hitched a curl of her wildly sprouted hair behind her ear and turned her attention towards, what she perceived anyway, the gazillion buttons on her black coat.  
  
"This shit never ends," she complained quietly to herself, where the word  **shit** referenced the coat and the situation as a whole. "Why do I keep insisting on zipping _and_ buttoning it," she muttered through gritted teeth, finally freeing herself and hooking it on the coat stand.  
  
It was then that she heard the sound of commotion emanating from the kitchen. She paused briefly.  
  
"Hello?" Eve sounded resolute, but ultimately her voice gave her away on the last vowel, increasing an octave and revealing that, perhaps, Eve's heart was racing.  
  
"It’s me," a familiar voice bellowed, "Hope you’re hungry, because I made dinner!"  
  
Eve rolled her eyes and sighed in relief, walking towards the kitchen with firm steps, only stopping once she reached the doorway.  
  
"I'm surprised nothing is on fire," Eve noted with a smile.  
  
Elena, Eve’s friend and occasional roommate, was standing by the sink, scrubbing the newly used pan as it hissed under the cold water. The billowing steam made her wince and reflexively close her eyes.  
  
"Ugh," Elena complained while wiping her face with the bend of her arm and giving the pan a few more brushes with the sponge before leaving it on the stove. She turned her head and met Eve’s expression, the one which sort of said "What the hell is that."  
  
Elena followed Eve's gaze and responded, "Mate, I can cook, this doesn’t prove anything," while grabbing the served plates, the food on them akin to melted, brown blobs. For a brief moment, they simply stared at the jumbled heaps, a confirmation of Elena’s poor, very poor, cooking skills.  
  
"Right," Elena said as a matter-of-factly, "Wine will wash this right out."

Eve grabbed her plate from Elena’s hand, rounded the kitchen table and sat on the opposite side of her friend. She reached for the already opened wine bottle and poured halfway into her juice glass, inquisitively glancing at Elena and lightly shaking the bottle in a gesture that could only mean "refill."  
  
"I’m about to get food poisoning, do you even need to ask," Elena replied dryly.  
  
"To food poisoning," Eve smiled and took a gulp of her wine, grimacing at its tartness. "Not a fan of red," she added with a squint, "But it sure does get the job done."  
  
"How did the interview go?" Elena began.  
  
"I must have done something right, since they hired me," Eve responded without lifting her gaze from the table. She was feigning modesty, something that Elena wasn’t buying.  
  
"I already know that," she retorted with a glazed look on her face. She shook her head and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose before continuing in staccato, "No, I meant how-did-it-go as in I-would-like-some-details ."  
  
"I don’t know. They seemed nice," Eve smiled.  
  
"They? Who’s they?"  
  
"I met Konstantin Vasiliev _and_ Oksana Astankova," her smile still growing.  
  
" _And_?" Elena’s voice was deafeningly loud. She was undoubtedly excited, but more than anything she was curious and adamant about learning the details of the story, and as such, she seemed unable to control the volume of her voice.  
  
This didn’t bother Eve.  
  
"Regal," Eve answered seemingly wistful. "They’re just really fucking imposing in person."  
  
"So," Elena continued in between bites, "what exactly will you be doing there?"  
  
"I think I’ll be doing a little bit of everything for both Vasiliev and Astankova," Eve responded with a mouthful of food, covering it with her hand, "Kind of intimidating."  
  
"Mate, don’t overthink this. What’s the worst scenario? That it doesn’t work out? That has a simple solution; you leave." After letting the words settle in, Elena continued, "Don’t feel stuck, because you’re not." She affectionately slapped Eve’s hand and with that one, small action, changed the entire tone of the room.  
  
Because, truth be told, the source for Eve’s concern wasn’t unfounded. It was rooted in the fact that Telamon Corp. was the biggest technology developer, with the goal of AI advancement. And as you can imagine, this was something of a hot button issue for the majority of the populace. So, it boils down to one simple reason- Eve was afraid that she was standing behind something that she ultimately wouldn’t be able to defend.  
  
But, I’m not worried.

 

* * *

 

A fair assumption would be that a structure such as Telamon would be located in the heart of a bustling city as its most prominent element, however, it was in fact located on the outskirts; far into the rural parts. This is also the reason why Eve experienced a duality in her feelings towards commuting- she partially loathed it because getting there was a struggle, and she partially didn’t mind it because once she has arrived in front of the rotating doors of the building and its surrounding landscape, she felt it was worth it.  
  
The building itself was a composite of white and glass. This is what made it stand out in the monotonically bright green fields, which seemed to encompass the land behind. The occasional coolness was offered by nearby trees, which were few in number but grand in size. And it was often that you could spot someone sitting and lounging under a crown, geometrically comparable to an obtuse triangle.  
  
Eve soaked in the sun one last time before pushing through the doors. There was a stride of confidence in her step, something that could be attributed to the now familiar surroundings- the same minimalistic interior, the same gray marble countertop, the same flower bouquets (gerberas, daisies, carnations and hydrangeas), and the same receptionist behind the desk whose name Eve couldn’t remember.  
  
"Good morning...," she declared while glancing at the nametag, "Collins!"  
  
"Good morning," Collins began, but just as quickly trailed off with a somewhat confused look on his face. This seemed to remind Eve that he probably remembered her as much as she did him.  
  
"Polastri. Eve," she stated and stretched out her hand.  
  
"Collins. Hugo," he responded with a certain hesitation, as he shook her hand.  
  
"I was here last Friday for an interview with Konstantin Vasiliev. And I was told to be here at 8:00 AM sharp." She flashed a smile.  
  
"Ah," Hugo uttered in the same manner analogous to someone finally remembering the name of that one song that’s been stuck in their head, "Welcome back! I see it went well then." He rose from his seat and rounded the counter in order to better show where he was pointing at, "It’s the same procedure as last Friday, you take _that_ elevator to the 30th floor. I believe Konstantin will be waiting for you, but if not, just knock on his door."  
  
Eve nodded and pursed her lips into an awkward, anxious smile, "Thank you."  
  
"Not a problem," he responded cordially as he walked back to his seat and refocused his attention on the computer screen.  
  
Eve took the elevator just as she had done the time before this and, perhaps, feeling even more nervous. When the doors finally opened, she poked her head out first and glanced around in search for something familiar. This while retaining the rest of her body in the small, confined, yet what Eve would consider, safe space of the elevator. Not seeing Konstantin in the hallway, she walked over to his office and knocked on the only door she recognized.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Seeing Eve walk through the door Konstantin immediately jumped up from his chair, as if just remembering that she was supposed to be there.  
  
"Hey! Welcome! Sit," he gestured towards one of the chairs positioned in front of him. "Something to drink?"  
  
"I'm alright for now," Eve responded.

In fact, Eve was not alright. Eve was tense. Tense to the point of being extremely aware of both the size and position of her tongue in her mouth, and the sensation that someone had swabbed it with cotton. It made a noise, almost like a gooey soup, when she added, "Eager to get started."  
  
"Well, I'll just quickly go over again what you'll be doing."  
  
Eve nodded.  
  
"You'll be split between me, Carolyn and Vee. I'm sure that you've gathered as much. Your primary position will be administrative- you'll deal with potential orders that are directly linked to me, Carolyn or Vee, following up and assessing projects, attending meetings, and so on." He readjusted in the chair. "Don't worry, we'll take it easy on you. First days' can be intimidating." He smacked his hand on his thigh and stood up. "For example, none of that Mr. Vasiliev bullshit. Just call me Konstantin."  
  
Eve hesitated, "I'll try to remember that."  
  
"Now follow me."  
  
Eve followed Konstantin through the corridor away from his office, towards an empty room situated at the opposite end diagonally left from Konstantin’s. He held the door open for Eve, "And this is your office,” he uttered obligingly.  
  
Eve walked up to her desk and sat down on the chair behind it.  
  
"I know you have some experience, but nevertheless, I asked Hugo to help you. You know, a brief introduction." He tried to assess Eve 's level of unease. "Don't worry, before you know it you'll be used to how everything is run. You'll be able to do it blindfolded. Until then, take it slow until you feel ready to manage on your own."  
  
Eve smiled, "I hope I can live up to the expectations."  
  
"I don't have an ounce of doubt," he responded and pointed in the direction of his office, "I'll be there if you need me." He made a small pause before quipping, "But try not to need me until I need you."

 

* * *

 

Eve heard a familiar ping from the end of the hallway. She associated the ping to the building’s elevator, which made the high pitched noise each time the doors opened. Eve fixed her gaze towards the source of the echoing footsteps that seemed to drag closer and closer. Finally, Hugo Collins’ head peaked around the corner.  
  
“Hey there,” he spoke cheerfully, "The help has arrived!"  
  
"THANK GOD," Eve uttered jokingly.  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
Eve picked up the computer mouse off of her desk and put it to her ear, "For the life of me, I can't figure out how this phone works."  
  
"Ah," Hugo responded in a way as though he was fully understanding and aware of Eve's phone trouble, "You see, it's because you're holding it the wrong way. You need to flip it the other way."  
  
Eve grabbed the chord and swung the computer mouse on her back, "Like this?"  
  
Hugo laughed. "You take instructions very well..." He paused and walked over to Eve's desk, snatching the bundle of post-its from her table and absentmindedly flicking the sheets with his thumb. "I was going to tell you that I'm merely a phone call away," he threw the post-its back on the desk, "But now I'm wondering if you'll make it by the end of the day."  
  
Eve chuckled.  
  
"You'll do just fine, Eve . Just keep your head down and do what Vasiliev, Martens and Astankova tell you to."  
  
"It sounds so simple when you put it like that."  
  
“It is _that_ simple,” he smiled. “You should come down to the lobby for lunch. There’s a group of us that eats together and I think it would be a great idea for you to meet some of them and get acquainted. We can chat work, answer any questions you have, and show you around.”  
  
Eve’s face lit up, “That’s very nice of you. I think I will.”  
  
“Alrighty then. I’ll see you later Polastri,” he uttered and walked into the hallway. But before he could leave, Eve noticed a sudden change in his posture- more rigid. It also didn't escape her how urgently he nodded to someone on his left, before turning and going right, towards the elevator.  
  
And there she was, standing in the doorway.  
  
"Good morning," she said.  
  
Eve rose to her feet. She felt that her arms weren't entirely a part of her body anymore; they felt longer and heavier, two logs hanging off of a cliff. Her heart palpitated so much that she felt it drum in the tips of her fingers. _Speak_ , she yelled at herself.  
  
"Good morning, Oksana." Then quickly correcting herself, "Miss Vee." Then quickly correcting herself again, "Miss Astankova."  
  
Oksana remained still and steadfast, the only indication that she found Eve's reaction remotely amusing was a brief rise of her eyebrows, "I wanted to welcome you to the building, and to make sure that you're adjusting well."  
  
Eve managed to dislodge her tongue from the roof of her mouth, "That's very kind. Thank you."  
  
"May I come in?" Oksana gestured with her hand.  
  
"Of course! You really don't need to ask."  
  
Oksana took a single step and then stopped. She folded her hands in front of her and interlaced her fingers. "This is your space, Eve. It wouldn't cross my mind to intrude."


	2. Dun-bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: chapter deals with illness and death.  
> also, short and sweet.

There's no proper way to describe Oksana Astankova. Only a few know of her childhood and none about her motivations. But with enough digging, this is what I was able to find out:

Oksana's mother was a kindhearted person with forest green eyes that mirrored her good nature. She was empathetic- to the point of catching and releasing even the smallest critter- and she had the wondrous ability to offer comfort to other people by being able to objectively view their perspective. She seemed wise beyond her years, which is one part of the reason why people often sought her advice, and the other being her compassion.

In fact, here is a memory that I was able to find of when Oksana was little.

 

_\- memory plays -_

[Oksana's mother had found a large mosquito in their living room who had wandered in through the open patio door. She had managed to trap it under a glass, but had no way to remove it from the wall. "Vee," she had said, "Go get mommy a piece of paper from the office upstairs." Oksana nodded and did as she was told.

Oksana's mother could hear commotion coming from the second floor, but she attributed it to little Oksana looking for the piece of paper.

After 5 minutes, little Oksana trots down and sits down on the couch with a ball in her hand.

"Vee?" Her mother uttered as a reminder, "Wasn't there something you were supposed to do?"

Oksana's eyes snapped to her mother. "You're still waiting?" She sounded surprised.

"I'm still waiting," her mother started to laugh, "But my arm is starting to hurt."

"I'm sorry," Oksana laughed, "I totally forgot! I'll be right back!"]

 

This memory might seem insignificant, but I assure you that it's not. For us it's important because it reveals the dynamic between mother and daughter, as well as the character qualities of Oksana's mother. But for Oksana it was important because of her mother's laugh.

It was not long after this that Oksana's mother got ill.

 

_\- memory plays -_

[Seeing the hospital made Oksana nauseous. If it had a flavor, it would be pungent. Nothing good happens here.

Oksana and her mother take the elevator to floor number 5. The creaking of the metal as it slowly made its way up made Oksana's eyes well up. She wanted to be brave.

"We'll be going home soon," her mother reassured.]

 

They ended up spending more and more time at the hospital. It became like a second home. Her mother in the hospital bed and Oksana next to her, on a mattress on the floor that the nurses had somehow managed to conjure. Oksana would wait for her mother to fall asleep first. Oksana's logic was that once her mother had fallen asleep she _couldn't_ die, because by falling asleep her mother had already been promised a new tomorrow. She would listen to her mother's breathing, until it would lull her into slumber.

And soon enough the hospital became their only home.

 

_\- memory plays -_

["Who's this?" The nurse gently rubbed Oksana's mother's hand and then pointed at Oksana. "Do you recognize her?"

Oksana's mother had a lost look in her eyes, gone was the forest. "No."

It fractured something inside Oksana.

"Yes you do," the nurse comforted, "It's your daughter."

Oksana's mother turned left towards Oksana, intently staring at her. She smiled and proudly boasted with utter awe, " _My_ daughter."

Oksana couldn't help but weep, as she was falling apart.]

 

Her mother passed away on September 21st, a couple of days after this memory was recorded.

Her mother was buried in a white coffin with red roses painted on the side. Roses were her mother's favorite flower.

She was buried in her favorite clothes. Oksana wore her nicest black dress to match.

And when the priest had finished the eulogy, he performed a last cleansing by splashing red wine on the coffin in the form of a cross, a tradition that Oksana didn't understand, but found the dichotomy between the white and the red beautiful. The coffin was then lowered into the grave.

Oksana desperately clutched at her heart, wanting to claw it out.

 

* * *

 

Eve was silent. She was stuck in the deep end. Each of Oksana's features crashed into her like a wave. Her hair. Crash. Neck. Crash. Lips. Crash. Eyes. Crash. Nose. Crash. Cheekbones. Crash. Ears. Crash. Skin. Crash. It was a sense of reverence that Eve couldn't explain, nor admit that she felt.

Oksana cleared her throat, "Hello?" She gestured with her hand in front of Eve's face.

Eve was instantaneously brought back, like a light beam shot out of a cannon. How long had she been quiet? _Better say something_ , she thought.

"I don't think you'd be intruding even if you decided to permanently live here."

Oksana pursed her lips and pushed them outwards, her eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled. It spelled: confusion.

"Was that weird?"

Oksana kept the same facial expression, but closed her right eye, giving Eve a grimaced wink, "It was a little weird."

"I heard it, but it had already left my mouth."

Oksana smiled. She walked up to Eve and grabbed the air in front of her, holding it tightly in her fist. She then pretended to grab a container, shoving the air from her fist inside and closing the lid on it. She held the imaginary jar on the palm of her hand, proudly displaying it to Eve. "A present."

"Present?"

"Take it."

Eve had some reservation, but it was incomparable to her willingness to indulge Oksana and play along. She stretched out her hands and wrapped her fingers around the "jar". She opened it.

"Oh, how nice," she began, "But what is it?"

"Come on, Eve!" It was hard to decipher if Oksana was feigning disappointment in Eve's ability to recognize the object, or if it was genuine. "Obviously it's a reverse button."

"Obviously..."

"We can rewind and start over," Oksana teased, "Avoid unnecessary diarrhea of the mouth." In actuality, Oksana didn't think that what Eve originally said was something to be truly embarrassed about. She was willing to admit that it was sort of endearing. But Oksana also enjoyed pushing the limits, and even more than so, she enjoyed sparring with Eve.

Eve's voice was steady, "No, I'm happy with where we are." She made a small pause to swallow and allow the redness in her cheeks to reduce, "Do I still get to keep it?"

Naturally, Oksana was unable to disregard an opportunity for theatrics, so she walked over to Eve's desk, sat on the corner and adapted a posture reminiscent of Auguste Rodin's _The Thinker._ "Hm," she mumbled, "What's in it for me? I mean, it's a very valuable gift, after all." She deepened her voice, " **Time travel**."

"Sure." Eve couldn't hold back her smile. There was something utterly innocent and charming about Oksana.

"It needs to be worth it. And _different,_ " Oksana continued and squinted, "As special as my gift."

"The pressure," Eve began, "Can I think about it?"

"Not really."

"Well," Eve began, "If I'm forced to think on my feet, how about I buy you a coffee as a thank you?"

"That's boring," Oksana responded unabashedly. And it's not that Oksana lacked filter, or that she couldn't lie, nor was it that she wanted to tell the truth, but rather that Oksana found the concept of "truth" and "lie" relative- kind of how beauty is in the eye of the beholder. "But, I'll take it."

Oksana jumped to her feet and with a self-assuring smirk said, "You get to keep the jar," almost as if Eve was supposed to feel privileged. She then added, "You should feel privileged, Eve."

"I do," Eve responded.

The earnestness in Eve's voice caused Oksana's thoughts to stumble, but she recuperated just as quickly, "As lead engineer it's my job to show you the lab. It's why I came down here." Oksana pulled a black hair tie off of her wrist and bunched her long, honey colored hair into a ponytail. "You've already signed the NDA and received clearance, right?"

"Mm," Eve murmured with a nod.

"Good. Come with me.


	3. Dun-Bar II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow we will all be on fire. SEASON FINALE...

Have you heard of the Equivalence Principle?

Let's do a quick thought experiment.

Imagine yourself and a friend in an elevator.

The elevator is floating freely in outer space, far from any gravitating object. Both you and your friend would experience complete weightlessness.

Now imagine the elevator accelerating rapidly upwards. Both you and your friend would be pushed to the floor, as though you _were_ under the influence of gravity. Meaning, there's no difference between the effects of gravity and the effects of acceleration.

Are you still with me? No?

Well, to put it simply, neither you nor your friend would be able to distinguish whether the elevator was standing still in a gravitational field or being accelerated in outer space.

Now, imagine Eve and Oksana taking the elevator to the laboratory, located on floor 0 (if you were to consider Telamon as a house, it means that it would've been located in the basement). In this scenario the Equivalence Principle is a near perfect description of Eve's emotions; she didn't know what was up or down, she didn't know whether they were standing still or being flung into space.

"Belly of the beast," Oksana said proudly while maintaining eye contact with Eve.

If it was possible to reduce a person into an abbreviation, Oksana had managed just that. Under the intensity of her gaze, Eve no longer felt like a person. Eve was a page, ripped and free floating, she read: "I am, I am, I am."

If you are confused, then allow me to explain. Eve Polastri was normal (even though she inherently resented that word). She brushed her teeth in the morning, ate breakfast, went to work, complained about the traffic or the weather, went home, and repeated the cycle the following day. 

But here she was, almost electrified under the intent eyes of Oksana. It was exhilarating. She was falling, but the floor was wonderfully solid, so she took solace in knowing that she couldn't fall any further.

"Stay close," Oksana continued, "You'll get lost."

If the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a technological laboratory are whirring machines, bright lights and white coats, I can confirm that you wouldn't be too far off.

"A lot of these are prototypes that didn't make it passed stage alpha," Oksana revealed and explained, "Still good to keep them around. For parts. Broken doesn't mean it's unusable."

Eve huffed.

"What?"

"Nothing," Eve replied, "It's just very 'fortune cookie' of you."

"Ouch," Oksana responded with an amplified expression of shock, "You bite."

They walked through one, large corridor. It seemed endless, until Eve noticed a door at the far end. To pass through the door a retinal scan was required, as well as a finger print ID.

The room itself was comparable to an elaborate garage; random tools spread out, loose wires, computers processing data, and in the middle a table. Oksana walked up to it and grabbed an item, showing it to Eve, "This is the Phren."

Eve was astonished at this small, white, rectangular piece of machinery. Essentially, a hard drive.

"Do you want to hold it?" Oksana had asked.

"Please," Eve eagerly responded. "So, this is what makes an AI human?" She said it more as a statement, rather than a question.

"Mhm," Oksana confirmed, "This interprets external signals and finds an appropriate action through algorithms."

The Phren was something referred to as a "strong AI," also known as artificial **general** intelligence. Meaning, an AI system with generalized human cognitive abilities. When presented with an unfamiliar task, a strong AI system is able to find a solution without human intervention.

"Incredible," Eve whispered and added, "Why The Phren?" She looked up at Oksana, "I mean, I understand its literal meaning."

If you aren't aware of the word **phren** , allow me to explain and save you the time it takes to look up.

Phren is an ancient Greek work for the mind. In fact, it's a word for the location of thought or contemplation. Even the Greek philosopher Pythagoras described it as one of the intellectual capacities that constitutes the soul, spirit and passion. However, the word itself is not only limited to humans.

Some thinkers maintained that 'phren' was an effluent force that steered and controlled the cosmos and that it was strongest at the region found beyond the universe, where strife reigned. This is manifested through something called 'aether'- a material that filled the region of the universe above the terrestrial sphere. This concept was then used to describe several natural phenomena, such as traveling of light and gravity.

This was a partial explanation, the other being:

 

_\- memory plays -_

[ **DELETED** ].

 

"No other reason," Oksana responded coolly.

"It just seems as though there's more behind it," Eve ventured forward.

"I don't speak in metaphors, Eve." Oksana's expression was stern.

Eve felt embarrassed that the conversation had turned sour, so she tried to rectify it, "Do you spend most of your time down here?"

"Depends on the day." Oksana lifted her brow, "Are you worried?"

"Worried?"

"That you won't get to see me enough?"

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to answer that question," Eve looked surprised at Oksana's brazenness.

"Honestly." Oksana had no intent on easing up.

"I'd honestly want to change the topic." Eve took a step away from Oksana. "When do we get to meet the first AI?"

Without missing a beat Oksana responded, "When the time is right." She wet her lips and bit the side of her cheek, "They're currently being taught."

"Taught?" Eve was confused. "Taught what?"

Oksana sighed, "Oh you know, history, physics, yadda yadda."

"Isn't it possible to just program that in? Create a script that can run," she used air quotations, "prebirth?"

"Of course."

"But we choose not to?"

"We choose not to," Oksana affirmed.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I'm missing something," Eve stated perplexed, adding with intonation, " **Why** do we **not** do that?"

"I believe that they'd be deprived of the human experience."

Eve shook her head, as though she still couldn't comprehend. "But their entire humanity is programmed, anyways."

Oksana released a breathe that seemed to empty her entire body, she was beginning to yield, "Learning to be critical, open, trusting, loving can only come from interaction with other people." She tensed, "Or so they say."

"Then, what's the point," she asked.

"Of what?"

" **This**. Teaching them to be like us. Isn't the point for them to be the opposite?"

Oksana pinched the bridge of her nose, "Oh Eve," she groaned, "Where this conversation is headed, I feel like you'll owe me a drink."

Eve sighed and retracted, "I just want to understand."

"You will."

Someone knocked on the glass. Oksana lifted her head in the direction of the noise and gestured for the person to come in.

"Eve," she said and walked over to the person as they entered, "I want you to meet one of the most brilliant coders." She rested her hand on his shoulder, "This is Bill."

Bill Pargrave was a middle aged man with a wife and a child. He had worked at the company for about 10 years and was a brilliant scientist that mainly dealt with logic programming and automated reasoning.

The first, logic programming, means to outline every possible step of a task. This can be hard since computers "think" in literal terms; they don't do what you mean, rather, they do exactly what you say. This means that Bill's task is to break down a complex task into tiny steps that the computer can execute one at a time, without a single mistake.

Bill usually explained it something like this:

"Let's say you want to tell a computer to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Step 1. Verify we have peanut butter, else stop.

Step 2. Verify we have jelly, else stop.

Step 3. Verify we have bread, else stop.

Step 4. Retrieve {peanut butter, jelly, bread}

Step 5. Lay out bread.

Step 6. Get knife, else use hand.

Step 7. Open peanut butter.

Step 8. Spread peanut butter.

Step 9. You get the idea."

The second, automated reasoning, is pretty much as the name indicates- it allows computers to reason automatically through a series of algorithms.

Oksana turned her attention towards Eve, "And this is Eve Polastri. She'll be, in part, responsible for the evaluating progress."

"Then you and I will be working together a lot," Bill smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

"A long black and one...," Eve looked over to Oksana trying to decipher if she was serious, "... And one tall, triple, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato with a pump of vanilla."

Oksana nudged her.

"Oh," Eve remembered, "And a blueberry scone. And a banana muffin." She looked over at Oksana, "Anything else, your grace?"

"Nope," Oksana replied content, almost childlike.

"Then that'll be it. To go, please," Eve spoke to the cashier.

Once they had received their order, Eve asked, "Where to?"

"I know just the place," Oksana grinned.

 


End file.
